Seven Rogues for Christmas: A Historical Romance Holiday Collection

by Dawn Brower

  A fierce blush swept into Phoebe’s cheeks. “You love me?”

  “I do. Could you not figure that out by this point?” Cecil adored the color that betrayed her deeper emotions. Would the rest of her flush under high passion? “You’ve thoroughly enchanted me this week, Phoebe. I cannot endure the thought I won’t have the honor of having you by my side for the rest of my life.”

  Tears pooled in her eyes, magnifying their blue. “I didn’t want to hope, but I cannot deny I feel the same. It smacked me in the head much like that wall did.” When she smiled, her chin wobbled. “Yes, yes, of course I’ll marry you, Cecil. I’ve loved you since you ran into me in the school hallway.” She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him close. “I’d hoped you would ask, but feared it was just a silly dream more suited to schoolgirls than women my age.”

  Hearty applause rang through the foyer and congratulations filled the air. “Oh, Uncle, that was the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen,” Emily told him. She closed the distance between them, leaned down and dropped a kiss on his cheek. “Whatever will I call Miss Pennyroyal now?” She moved to Phoebe and kissed her cheek as well. “I’m so glad you’ll be with me even longer.”

  Phoebe snorted. “For the moment, Phoebe will suffice. We can discuss other options later, but we will most definitely need to find a new companion. It just won’t do for me to live under the same roof now.”

  “I’ll inquire around town tomorrow, but I intend to marry you as soon as can be arranged. I won’t wait to claim my bride.” Though he’d claim her body thoroughly tonight once the household slept. Joy bubbled up and swelled his chest. A faint movement at the window near the door caught his attention, and his bliss overflowed. “Emily, I believe it is snowing. Perhaps you and your party would like to go outside?”

  “We would indeed, Uncle, if only to give you a few moments of privacy.” He didn’t like the knowing look she bestowed upon him as she herded her friends out the door.

  Phoebe made a sound of protest. “They are not properly dressed for the weather.”

  “Let them go, my love. It will be all right.” He tapped the end of her nose. “That girl will be trouble in another couple years.”

  “You’d best start watching her now,” Phoebe rejoined. “It’s not as if we’ve given her the best of examples.”

  “I disagree.” He kissed her lips. “Showing Emily what real love looks like is the best foundation.”

  Banks arrived on the scene with a discreet throat clearing. “Do you require assistance, Mr. Tame?”

  “Yes, actually. Please assist the lady up. I’m rather too old to remain sitting on this chilly floor.” Once Banks helped Phoebe into a standing position, Cecil struggled to his feet as well. There was a decided ache in his backside.

  “Do you still require a doctor, sir?” Banks raised an eyebrow as he glanced between him and Phoebe.

  “No, thank you. Miss Pennyroyal has merely received a bump to her head, but perhaps we should consider the mattress game concluded for the night.”

  “Capital idea. I’ll just tidy up.” Banks bowed then gained the stairs, turning to the task of hauling the mattress back to the bedroom it came from.

  Once they were alone, Cecil took possession of her hands. How was it possible she’d become so dear to him in such a short time or that he’d existed without her this long? “I’m so glad you accepted my proposal.”

  “I was happy to do so.” Phoebe tucked a fallen strand of hair into its bun. She pinned him with her direct gaze. “But there is something I need to know. Do you truly desire me?”

  Cecil frowned. “I was under the impression I’d conveyed how I felt, but if you require more proof,” he dropped his voice, “I will endeavor to show you as many times tonight as you need.”

  A shiver wracked her shoulders. “Yes, but perhaps I want to hear it a different way.” She moistened her bottom lip and he stifled a groan. “I’m not exactly in the first or second blush of youth, and I’m a mother besides. I don’t look at the world with wide-eyed innocence that someone ten years younger would. Does that change your opinion of me?”

  “It absolutely does not.” Cecil didn’t like that trace of doubt in her eyes. “In fact, your age and experience are two reasons that make you irresistible to me.” He tugged her into his arms and held her close. “Perhaps a grand romance doesn’t belong exclusively to the young. Like fine wines and cheeses, love needs to age in order to be truly appreciated.”

  A slow smile curved her lips as she pulled back. “So, now I belong on an aging rack in a cellar somewhere?”

  Cecil slid his hands upward and cupped her face. The tremble that moved through her transferred to him. “Darling, know this: being with you makes me feel as if I were a young man again, as if I could fly if I jumped from the roof or swim from here to America. I cannot wait to start my life with you.”

  “You are too charming for you own good.”

  “Aye, perhaps I am. Do you take issue with being leg-shackled to such a rogue?”

  “Well, someone has to make the sacrifice.” She moved and pressed her lips to his. Several minutes passed as they indulged in long, drugging kisses that left him heated and very much aroused. Drat the house being full of young people. It quite put a damper on a man’s desires. “And you are quite potent.”

  He grinned as soon as she pulled away. Passion clouded her gorgeous eyes. “That I am. But then, you are a siren.” Not able to help himself, Cecil stole another kiss and this time was hard pressed not to let it carry him away. When he broke the embrace, he heaved a shuddering sigh. “Where should we begin our adventure together? We can go anywhere in the world. What is the desire of your heart?”

  “Besides you?” Phoebe’s grin sent tickles into his soul and heat through his groin. “Are you brave enough to start here on England’s shores, in your bedchambers once the house is quiet, or are you not interested in being tamed for Christmas?” She winked and he lost his heart all over again.

  “That is one adventure I’m anxious to embark upon.” He held her in a tight hug and rested his chin on her head. “As long as you’re by my side, anywhere we go is exciting enough.”

  The End

  Chapter 13

  Fifth of December, 1818, three minutes to midnight

  “So, Eastden, how is the old broken heart faring?” Thornwich’s voice rang out through the dining room of White’s Gentlemen’s Club, but no one really noticed. To a gentleman, everyone was as far into his cups as were Nick and his friends – if one could call them friends.

  If truth be told, the company in town at this time of year, early December, left a lot to be desired. Every gentleman around this table was as dissolute as he. They were all rakes and libertines, even the married ones, and at this moment in time they were all utterly foxed.

  Nick swirled the brandy in his glass and watched it coat the inside before dribbling back into the pool of dark amber liquid. Then he looked up at the man who had just spoken.

  “Broken-hearted, Thornwich? I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Lady Angela—Sedgewick’s daughter. You seemed very keen on her during the season and then suddenly she was betrothed to the bastard son of the Duke of Hawkhill.”

  “Mm, yes,” mused Nick, trying to sound non-committal. “I am sure she is very happy with Mr Stevenson and he is obscenely rich.”

  “I hear she is already increasing, Eastden. It’s not yours, is it?”

  Nick tried to focus on his tormenter. What in devil’s name was he doing here with this ass?

  “Unlike you, Thornwich, I do not make a habit of ruining young ladies of the ton.”

  A murmur moved around the table.

  “God’s teeth, Eastden, you’re not suddenly going to become my moral compass. I married the young lady I ruined… well, one of them anyway.” He grinned around at his friends, some of whom nodded appreciatively at his joke while others suddenly became consumed with checking the contents of their own glasses.

 
“No, Thornwich. You have to live with the fact that two young ladies are now spinsters due to your reckless behaviour and the fact you seduced and ruined them. Not to mention the servants you have no doubt bedded. I was merely pointing out that I am not like you and since the only way to save your scrawny little neck was to marry Lady Edna, I would have expected nothing less of you.”

  He was not entirely sure where his sudden moral outrage had come from. Thornwich had been his friend when they were boys. They had learned to fish together, they had dragged each other back to their feet after their first tumbles from horses and they had skimmed stones across his father’s lake. Thornwich had never quite matched Nick’s tally of nine skips.

  Now Thornwich was an earl, had married Lady Edna Barrow, a pretty enough daughter of a viscount, but he still kept a number of mistresses and preferred to be in London with his rakehell friends than out at Thornwich with his perfectly lovely wife. The man was a fool.

  Nick was vaguely aware of the clock chiming midnight in the hallway outside the dining room.

  “You are just as dissolute as I am, Eastden,” Thornwich sneered. “The difference is that I am already an earl and that I am already married. You seem incapable of attaining either state of being.”

  “I am not sure how you expect me to become an earl short of murdering my own father, which is ludicrous. As for marriage, I could have been married a hundred times over. When I walk into a ballroom all the mamas with marriageable daughters look at me with expectation.”

  “Yet you remain a bachelor with no heir to carry on the earldom should your father outlive you.”

  “I choose to remain a bachelor. Devil take it, I could be married by Christmas if I so decided, Thornwich.” It was the brandy talking. Nick knew it. This was his chance to shut his mouth and retreat.

  “That sounds dangerously close to a wager, old man.”

  “Do not tempt me, Thornwich, for you would lose.”

  “Hmm, it is after midnight so it is now St Nicholas’ Day. It would seem we are now in the Christmas season. Ten thousand pounds says you cannot marry my spinster sister before Christmas Day.”

  “Your spinster sister? You mean Gabriella?”

  “Yes. I mean Gabriella. She is eight and twenty and I would gladly pay someone to take her off my hands. She has had nine seasons and not one proposal of marriage. Besides, since you will no doubt lose, I could use the money.”

  Nick looked around the table. All the men were now watching him avidly. It was a stupid bet but he had been put on the spot. Somehow he knew he was going to regret it in the morning but one look at Thornwich’s smug expression and something snapped inside him.

  He had grown up with Gabby too. Their fathers’ estates neighboured each other and until he had been sent away to school, Gabby, not Thornwich, had been his best friend. He had seen her on many occasions since her come out and now he came to think of it, he had no idea why he had never asked her to dance or even approached her to chat. Something niggled at the back of his mind. They had drifted apart, of course. It had been bound to happen but something had spoiled their friendship. Perhaps their parents had quarrelled. That was probably it. Why had she never married, though?

  And then he remembered. The large strawberry birthmark across her cheek and nose. How had he managed to forget that? But surely that would not be enough to stop anyone asking for her hand. It was only a birthmark.

  Perhaps because he had grown up with her and she had always just been Gabby that he had never really noticed the mark. As for his lack of gentlemanly behaviour, he had no answers. Thornwich’s mouth had turned into a sneer. He was trying to set not just Nick up to fail but Gabriella too. What a cad.

  “I shall accept your wager, Lord Thornwich.” He turned to a footman. “The betting book, please,” he said. He turned back to his adversary. “We leave tomorrow morning for your country estate.”

  Gabriella looked up from the ledger and rubbed her eyes, looking around her father’s office and judging it dark enough to start lighting candles. It must be nearly four o’clock in the afternoon if it was already getting dark. No matter how she tried to make her sums add up they would not.

  At that moment there was a sharp rap at the door and Gabriella bade the housekeeper to enter, along with a footman carrying a tray of sandwiches, cakes and tea.

  “I apologise, Milady, but I knew you would forget to ring for tea so I took the liberty of getting cook to prepare a tray for you. I hope you don’t mind.”

  The footman placed the tray on the desk, bowed and set about lighting candles all around the room. Gabriella smiled at the older woman who had all but brought Gabriella up. Of course, there had been governesses and nannies but it had always been to Mrs McAllister whom Gabriella would run when she fell and hurt her knee or when other children would taunt her over her birthmark.

  “Please sit and have tea with me, Mrs McAllister.”

  “Oh Milady, I’m not sure…”

  “I insist,” Gabriella said in a tone that brooked no reply. They played this game every day. The housekeeper knew that Gabriella was lonely and needed someone to talk to but she would never presume to be invited to sit for tea, despite two cups and saucers being set on the tray.

  “As you wish,” replied Mrs McAllister, sitting on the other side of the desk.

  “Billy, did the Thatcher fix your mother’s roof?” she asked as the footman bowed and prepared to leave.

  “Yes, Milady. She was very pleased with it. She asked me to thank you but I forgot.” The young man blushed furiously and Gabriella smiled kindly at him.

  “Worry not, Billy, it shall be our secret.”

  “Yes, Milady. Thank you, Milady.”

  With that, he scurried off into the dark foyer to light some more candles. Gabby sighed. She had managed to pay for just one roof to be fixed. Billy’s mother’s roof had been the worst. However, there was no money for the rest.

  “Perhaps you should think again about a companion, Lady Gabby,” said the housekeeper as Gabriella poured the tea. The housekeeper was the only person she allowed to call her Gabby and even then, it was only when they were in private.

  “We have been though this, Peggy. I am fine. I did try to find a companion but none suited. They were all so…”

  She waved her hand, trying to think of a polite way to put it. Every woman she had interviewed seemed to be a foretaste of what she was about to become, an unwanted, unloved and bitter spinster. She may be alone but she had her work cut out for her running the estate.

  Joseph, her brother, was a feckless wastrel with the most unpleasant wife. That said, Gabriella supposed that Edna had reason to be angry at the world. She had married a man who seemed intent on bedding every female in England, save herself. She’d had two miscarriages and was presently increasing again. Gabriella hoped for Edna’s sake that the pregnancy would go well.

  Peggy McAllister accepted the cup of tea.

  “I know, lovey. I just worry about you is all.”

  “I am fine. I just need to convince my brother to release funds so I can make some repairs to the tenants’ cottages and the stables. I shall write to him tonight.”

  A noise outside made Gabriella turn towards the window. She recognised the coach pulling up in front of the ancient manor’s front doors. The Thornwich crest was emblazoned on the side, bigger than most crests, making the whole thing look preposterous.

  “Looks like you will be able to save your paper, Milady,” said Peggy, standing and smoothing down her apron.

  What Gabriella saw next turned her blood cold. Stepping out of her brother’s travelling coach was none other than Viscount Eastden—Nicholas, her childhood friend. She had not spoken to him since that awful day when they were twelve years old and he had taunted her, telling her she was ugly and would end up an old spinster. The sad truth was he had been correct.

  Chapter 14

  Gabriella rose and glanced down at her appearance. Devil take it. Why could her brother not have had the
decency to let her know to expect a visitor? At least she would have worn something slightly more appropriate than her faded blue muslin day gown. She patted her blonde hair, wondering how much of the severe knot had come down as she had frustrated herself over the figures in the estate ledger. She had not even put any powder over her birthmark to minimise it. No-one in Thornwich Manor cared how ugly she looked.

  Well, there was no point worrying about it now. She took a deep breath and walked into the foyer just as Joseph, Edna and Lord Eastden marched into the manor. Joseph’s eyes lit on Gabriella and his expression became a sneer, as did Edna’s.

  “My darling sister. You remember Lord Eastden, of course.” Gabriella curtseyed politely at the man who bowed low and graciously to her. He had already removed his hat. Gabriella’s breath hitched. The man was gorgeous. She had seen him at balls over the years but had never paid too much attention. For all his comment had been a silly, childish remark made in a fit of pique at her not allowing him to play with her new puppy, it still hurt.

  “My lady. It is a pleasure. We have waited far too long to become reacquainted with each other.”

  “As I recall, my lord, you sent me to the devil at our last meeting and I have not yet reached there. I assumed you would not want to be acquainted with a lady who disobeyed your orders.”

  “I did?” Lord Eastden looked genuinely shocked and perplexed. “I do humbly beg your pardon, my lady. I do not recall saying such a thing. I shall not seek to make any excuses but I do beg your forgiveness for any offence I caused.”

  She waved away his apology. It was sixteen years too late in any case. She found it difficult to believe that he could not remember the cruel words and the curl of his lip.

  “If everyone wants to go into the drawing room, I shall arrange for a tea tray while your rooms are being prepared. My lord,” she turned to her brother, “I apologise. Had I known you were coming, I would have had your room and our guest’s room prepared.”